


Trim And Fit Isn’t Always Best

by afteriwake



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anthea POV, Established Relationship, F/M, Mycroft And Food, dieting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-27
Updated: 2015-10-27
Packaged: 2018-04-28 10:27:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5087170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afteriwake/pseuds/afteriwake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a bit too much teasing from his brother, Mycroft makes a concerted effort to get in shape and lose the pudge. But Anthea, while happy for some of the changes it brings, misses the old Mycroft…and so, apparently, does Mycroft.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trim And Fit Isn’t Always Best

**Author's Note:**

> So a little while back I had a request from an anonymous prompter for fluffy Mythea fic with the prompt " _Mycroft has had it with Sherlock's teasing and gets buff. Anthea notices and misses the pudge._ " This is my answer to the prompt and, I hope, it is fluffy enough.

It had all begun with the repeated references to the beluga whale.

Sherlock had been making snide comments about Mycroft’s weight the entire time she had known him. Not that there had honestly been much of the childhood chubbiness left by the time she had come into the picture. There was just a bit of pudge around the midsection, a bit of thickness at the thighs, and a bit of a backside, just enough to give a good squeeze to now and again.

Overall, not too much. Just enough to entice her.

But no, Sherlock had to keep jabbing, keep making digs at Mycroft’s most sensitive spot. The other government officials, they had learned it was best to only make mention of his weight if you were saying he looked healthy, trimmer, leaner; Sherlock made mention of it to ask if he’d snuck in an extra few Jammie Dodgers or had a Jaffa Cake instead of a bran muffin. She knew he made it a point to, every so often, time it so Mycroft had to come to Baker Street just in time for Mrs. Hudson to be baking and for the smell to waft up into the sitting room. And that wasn’t even considering the occasional parcels of baked goods she refused to let get past her desk. Those were always deposited in a rubbish bin far away from Mycroft’s office.

There were times she sorely wanted to punch Sherlock in his handsomely smug face and break his nose and maybe a few of his teeth.

When Mycroft’s text alert changed to the sound of a whale call, she knew Sherlock was upping his game. Mycroft had seemed to take it in stride at first, but she noticed little changes. He rose from bed earlier each morning. The state of the refrigerator started to change, gradually, with the foods she loved to share with him becoming smaller in quantity and the food which seemed more like rabbit food taking up more space. There were more visits from Timothy, his personal trainer, to work into his schedule.

And she noticed the results of those changes, too. He felt firmer when she was close to him, arms wrapped around his waist. Less pudge at the midsection. There was less derriere to grab a hold of when she felt like being a bit frisky in the office; it was getting quite a bit toned. These weren’t _bad_ changes, not in the slightest; he seemed to enjoy the new confidence he got from the changes in his physique, and the confidence led to him being a bit more daring, a bit more adventurous, but…she found she missed the comfortable him.

She must have pulled away without realizing it because they were seated at dinner one evening, him eating his baked chicken breast with steamed asparagus and brown rice mixed with dried fruit and nuts while she had Gouda and spinach stuffed pork chops and a side of roasted red potatoes and her own share of the steamed asparagus, and he had just kept glancing at her. They didn’t even enjoy the same meals at home anymore, and that had seemed to be quite depressing. Finally she stopped eating. “Yes?” she asked.

“You’re not happy,” he said quietly.

She held onto her fork and knife for a moment before setting them on her plate. “I appreciate the change in your appearance, Mycroft, I do, but…I miss the comfortable you,” she said quietly. “There are certain things I enjoy about this new side of you. The adventurousness and the newfound confidence, those are wonderful things, but…I rather liked the pudge. I want to beat your brother senseless for being such a prat and belittling you about your weight, but…I don’t know. You seem to be happy with the change and I’m not and I don’t want to be unhappy but I am.”

“I’m miserable,” he said, pushing his plate away and looking at her. She looked over at him in surprise. “My life revolves around work and exercising and bland, tasteless meals. I did this at first so Sherlock would stop pressing that button he so loves to press, but then I saw that I looked handsome, and so I kept going. But the more I strove towards looking my best the more you pulled away.”

“I thought you were quite handsome before,” she said with a smile, reaching over for his hand. “I thought you were incredibly sexy with the pudge at the midsection and the bit of meat on your backside. I mean, this rather trim figure you’ve developed is quite nice, but it’s not…you.”

“No, it’s really not,” Mycroft said with a slight smile of his own. “So if I give up this lifestyle of endless exercise and boring food and slide back into some old habits…?”

“Then I will still be here, waiting for you with open arms,” she said. “In fact, why don’t you give me your plate? I know for a fact there’s more of my meal in the kitchen. I think you deserve something a bit more decadent tonight.”

“Any dessert, perhaps?” he asked as he lifted up his plate to hand to her.

“I could be persuaded to share some of my truffles, I think,” she said as she stood up and took his plate from him. “And we could pair them with a few glasses of dessert wine, or perhaps sherry.”

He gave her a wider grin. “I think that sounds like a much better evening than spending an hour on the treadmill, followed by another half hour doing abdominal exercises.”

“If you really want to work up a sweat, I’m sure we can come up with more pleasurable ideas,” she said, her grin turning slightly more seductive at that. Judging by the heated look in his eyes at that statement she wasn’t entirely sure whether they would even put those dessert plans into fruition, but she was glad to know that he had missed his old self as much as she had, and that things had the chance of going back to something close to how they had been…though she _did_ rather hope he kept that sense of confidence and adventurism. Those, she felt, were wonderful new additions to the man she loved so very much.


End file.
